Under Control -Request-
by ringaroundtherollins
Summary: For my dearest penelo14, here is a one-shot, Ambrollins, smutty fic depicting what happens when Seth gets jealous of anyone trying to move in on his Dean Ambrose, and what he does about it to prove that Dean is his love and his life. Special request, but you're allowed to enjoy it, too, even if you're not her. ;) Smut, so obviously, rated M for language and sexy shtuff.


Something was wrong.

Dean knew it because Seth never shut up. Now he was quiet as a churchgoer on Sunday morning.

"You okay?" Dean asked from the passenger's seat of Seth's Cadillac. His hands seemed to be gripping that steering wheel awful tight. Dean wasn't usually one to develop anxiety attacks, but the fact that Seth wasn't talking right now—about much, about anything at all—was enough to set off a couple of alarms.

"Yeah, I'm good," Seth said, not taking his beautiful brown eyes off the road. A wise decision to make while traveling seventy-five miles per hour on the highway, yet still a fact that managed to discomfort Dean.

"Did I do anything wrong?"

Seth crinkled his nose, an act he usually did when he was confused. "No? Why would you think that?"

"You're just quiet. That's all." Dean tried to relax, facing forward, returning his feet to the floor. He'd had them up on the seat for so long and now they were losing feeling.

"Just tired. It was a fun night, but went on for way too long."

Tonight they'd attended as celebrity guests at a charity dinner benefiting St. Jude Children's Research Hospital. Seth had wanted to go to put in a good name for himself, and Dean had gone along for Seth's sake. It hadn't been _fun_ , per se, but it certainly hadn't been dull. Several fellow WWE wrestlers had made guest appearances: John Cena (of course), Becky Lynch, Booker T, Roman Reigns. It had been good to see Roman again. Outside of work, the two were only in formal communication with one another. Dean remembered the days when the three of them were inseparable. Now Roman was like an old friend who'd moved to a different neighborhood. Ever since Seth and Dean had gotten together, Roman seemed a bit more distant.

Dean figured it was just a coincidence. He had his own life to live outside work, and Dean was happy with Seth. Why shouldn't he be? Seth treated him like royalty.

Still, something irked Dean and he wanted to present the idea, to satisfy his own curiosity, even if it got him nowhere. Perhaps that was best-case scenario.

"It was good seeing Roman again," Dean said lightly.

Ah, that _was_ it, Dean realized as Seth's grip on the steering wheel tensed all the more. He might not have been _frowning_ , but his lips were slanted enough to indicate some form of unease.

"Seth?"

"Yeah, good, it was great seeing him again, of course. We should have him over for dinner sometime."

Did Seth really mean that? The blunt tone didn't seem to support that idea. "Are you…upset with him?"

"No."

"Jealous?" Roman had given Dean two hugs—one before the dinner, and one just before he left with Seth—but was that really any grounds to get so bitter and envious?

"It's just…" Seth let out a sigh. He eased his car onto the exit ramp. Their apartment was just off the highway. "It's obvious he's not over you."

"Is it?" Dean questioned honestly, heart fluttering. He hadn't gotten that impression at all. Then again, he'd spent more time focusing on Seth and key note speakers tonight rather than Roman, sitting at a different table across the dining hall. Maybe Seth had picked up on something Dean had missed completely.

"You kidding?" Seth scorned. He wound through the apartment complex parking lot until claiming a spot in front of their home. "It's so obvious. He was eye-humping you all night."

"I mean, can you blame him? I look pretty good in a suit." Dean offered a grin, even a poke with his tongue that he knew Seth found sexy, but Seth just looked at him somberly. He killed the car engine.

"Seth, come on. Even if he isn't over me, so what? The point is, I'm with _you_. You've got me all to yourself, and I'm not going anywhere anytime soon."

Seth raised an eyebrow. "You sure?"

"Of course I'm sure, why would you question it otherwise?"

"Just wondering if you'd be willing to prove it, that's all." A little smirk threatened to unfurl at the corners of his mouth. Dean caught onto his gesture quick.

"How may I prove it to you?"

"Let's get inside before we freeze to death, then we'll talk."

Seth and Dean were rarely in their apartment, so rarely that hardly any furniture was invested in the little one-bedroom pad. Because of work and a constant state of travel, home was almost an empty word. Because of how little time was spent here, they tried to make each time they _were_ here count.

And it was about to count, oh yes. It would count for everything in the world.

Seth didn't delay for a moment. He unlocked the door and flicked on one living room light for guidance towards the bedroom. Dean stripped of his nice shoes, then followed Seth inside their chamber.

"Take it off," Seth encouraged in a whisper.

Dean unbuttoned his jacket and let it drop to the floor. He took his time unfastening the clasps on his long-sleeved white shirt, because the more impatient Seth got, the more aggressive he was with every measure, and Dean _loved_ dominant Seth.

The trick had its desired effect. "Fuck's sake, Dean," Seth said, drawing nearer and tearing the rest of the buttons apart. Dean slipped the shirt over his shoulders, and the material fluttered to the floor with the jacket.

Seth wrapped his arms behind Dean, situating his talented hands on Dean's tight ass, and towed him into a firm kiss. Dean's mouth opened, surrendering to the authority of Seth's tongue. The kiss was not about to last all night, as much as Dean loved it.

"You really fucked up tonight, Ambrose," Seth said, already falling into his commanding character.

Dean loved his role: the aggressive sub that took a little while to break. Never the top, but never going down without a fight. "Oh, _did_ I?"

"You gonna apologize?"

"Can't say sorry for nothing I did wrong."

Seth fumbled to unhook his brown belt from around his waist. Dean glanced down at the leather strap. He'd never used this on him before—it would be interesting, maybe exciting, but definitely new. Dean braced for a hit.

But a hit never came. Obviously Seth intended to use the belt for a different purpose. "Get on the bed."

"Fucking make me, why don't you?" An order Seth was more than willing to obey. With a light shriek, Dean was lifted into Seth's arms and dropped off on the bed. He landed on his stomach.

"You don't tell me what to do, Ambrose."

"I think I just did, and you listened, so really, who's the one with control here?"

Without looking back, Dean heard Seth's pants shuffling as he kicked them off his sturdy legs, legs that were now crawling atop him and straddling him in place. Dean felt Seth drape the belt in front of his face, then gently pull back, drawing the strap against his mouth.

"Bite down," Seth impelled.

This was definitely new, and incredibly erotic. Dean obeyed, taking the strap between his teeth like a gag. He could feel Seth's massive erection pressed against the shape of his butt. If only Seth would get these pants off him now, too, so he could take in the full pleasured feeling…it would come soon enough. Dean had to be patient, which went against what this character stood for.

"That's it," Seth hissed. "Good boy, Dean."

"Can I get a flavored one of these?" Dean asked, voice stifled by the belt. "This tastes kinda leathery."

Seth grabbed a handful of Dean's hair and pulled his neck backwards, forcing Dean to look straight up, at him. "You have the right to shut your mouth." Seth secured the belt as tight as the girdle allowed, allowing himself full use of both hands without concerning himself with the belt staying in Dean's mouth. His fingers spidered themselves over Dean's bare back, down his sides, across his ribcage. Dean squirmed.

"What's the matter?" Seth taunted.

"Tickles," Dean answered as best he could.

"Oh yeah? Tough shit." Seth jabbed him again, eliciting a grunted giggle. His fingers went to Dean's waistline, where they skillfully jerked Dean's dress pants off. He drew them to Dean's ankles, then returned to his place atop Dean on the bed. Now Dean could _really_ feel the effect of this scenario on Seth. His enormous boner up against him, dangerously close to that sweet place Dean craved to be…

"Say something that'll really piss me off."

Seth made the request often, but Dean was always afraid that something he said would genuinely upset Seth, and the night would be ruined, the relationship in a setback. "Like what?"

"Anything to get me enraged. So I can take it _all_ out on you."

"Um…I still have feelings for Roman?" he tried.

That did it.

Seth lathered a lubricant onto his stiff cock and within moments, slid inside Dean. Dean gasped and bucked at the sensation. Sometimes he amazed himself with how well he could handle _all_ of Seth.

"You're fucking mine, you got that?" Seth growled, thrusting in and out of Dean, starting slowly and building up to exhausting speeds. "All mine. Nobody…else…can…have…you." He pressed one hand on Dean's back to keep his balance, using the other to seize Dean's hair again and give it a firm yank. "You make me…do this to you…this is your punishment…you fucking bad boy…"

Dean's buried his head into a pillow, his mouth aching by work of the belt, his fingers clenching the sheets beneath his nude body. Seth filled him up, over and over, bringing about a delicious sense of pain and a toe-numbing sensation of bliss. Already his skin was overlaid with a layer of sweat, head to toe. He couldn't keep quiet. He sputtered what must have sounded like random nonsense through this blasted gag, but every word was sincere: _fuck me—fuck me harder—I'm so fucking bad, Rollins, prove it—I disobey on purpose—fuck me—I love you Seth—fuck oh fuck—oh Christ—oh fucking hell—oh shit—oh God—_

It got to the point, during each session, that Seth grew too weary to uphold his role as an aggressor. Slowly he would succumb to his own emotions, his own pleasure, his own breathlessness. "You feel…so fucking good, Ambrose…" A breath in and a pant. "Tell me…tell me how good it feels…"

"So fucking good," Dean groaned, nearly tearing the sheets off the mattress completely. "So fucking good…"

"I fucking love you, Dean. And I love fucking you."

Dean laughed through his next whimper. He felt powerless, defenseless, against Seth's wrath—which had now dulled to mere pleasure and playtime—and he loved every minute of it. His body hungered for it, _thirsted_ for it.

"I'm gonna come, Dean. You ready?"

Before Dean could reply with anything, Seth yanked his hair again and drew his torso completely off the bed, pressing his sweaty chest against Dean's back and creaking with the ecstasy of his orgasm. Seth's body writhed as Dean felt warm, sticky fluid seep from the throbbing mass inside him. Dean wiggled his fingers. _No greater feeling…none in the world_ …

Seth's body came to a steady halt. He let out a loud breath of fulfillment. Laid on top of Dean and whispered in his ear, fingering the ends of his mane gently now, "That was real sweet, Dean. Felt really good." He freed Dean from the hold of the belt.

"I should piss you off more often," Dean groaned, smiling in the dark.

Seth chuckled, kissing his neck. He unfastened the buttons on his undershirt, which he'd left on during intercourse to further promote his dominance over Dean— _I get to stay dressed while you're bare under me_ —and tossed it aside. They'd be sleeping naked together tonight, the way the universe intended it. "I love you so much. Forever, for always…"

"And no matter what," Dean finished for him, snuggling into Seth's strong figure as Seth drew the comforter over them. For the future might have been uncertain in some aspects, one thing was for sure: he loved the hell out of Seth, and nothing was going to take away this precious love.


End file.
